


Hell is for the Heart

by SineVestigio



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Demon Dean, Evil Dean Winchester, Evil Sam Winchester, First Blade, Hellfire, Kissing, M/M, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Top Sam, its the end of the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:36:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9634979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SineVestigio/pseuds/SineVestigio
Summary: A brief glimpse into the life of Sam and Dean, after Sam's rise to power as the Boy King with Dean at his side.





	

**Author's Note:**

> so this is gonna be the first of many little wincest one shots/drabbles i come up with before bed lmao writing them down helps me sleep at night, so i'm gonna start squishing them all into one lil series

Watching the world burn wasn't as bad as Dean thought it would be.

When he'd still had his humanity, he feared the death of over a billion innocents. Men and women and children. Mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, aunts, uncles, brothers, lovers. All of them gone in a blazing ball of agony, while fire burned their skin from their bones and ash clouded their lungs. It would be painful, as burning to death always was, and so many of them were unsuspecting. They were ill-prepared for the end of times, and Dean's heart broke in ways he couldn't explain. First for the ignorance of people who couldn't protect themselves, then for his own inability to stop what was coming, and finally for the monster he'd let Sam become.

Thankfully, that part of Dean has been ripped away. Sam made sure of that. The process was agonizingly slow, since Sam refused to lay a hand on Dean in any way that would cause him physical harm. At the time, Dean wished Sam would've just whipped him into submitting to the darkest parts of himself, and gotten it over with quickly. Now that the light is gone, Dean understands why he didn't. Sam had to see just how far Dean's loyalty to him went. Taking Dean, forcing him into becoming Sam's good little soldier would've been too easy. It wasn't a good enough test of faith. Sam wanted to make sure Dean knew exactly what he was signing up for. He had to make sure Dean could look past the fact that Sam was going to be killing enough people to fill an ocean, ignore the fact that the people they'd loved were probably going to wind up dead, and those who survived would never look at the Winchesters the same way ever again. Without Sam's guidance, this never would've worked.

It took months for Sam to coax that darkness out of Dean. The mental torture was far worse than anything Dean's ever faced before, but it was worth it. He needed that push to put him in his rightful place by Sam's side. Dean would've never reached his full potential if Sam let him off easy, and then he would've lost the only person he's ever truly loved. Dean was weak before, but Sam was strong. God, his baby brother, who used to be so fragile, always needing Dean's protection, was the glue that kept them together when Dean couldn't. Thanks to Sam, neither of them needed protecting anymore. They were what people needed protection from.

Sam's eyes had long since turned yellow, after his training with Azazel came to a bloody end and he'd obliterated the demon with the snap of his fingers. The student became the master, and power radiated from Sam with every breath he took. The earth quaked wherever he stepped, and all the demons in Hell bowed before him. Even Lucifer ran with his tail between his legs, too afraid to challenge Sam for the throne, seemingly vanished into thin air. Death, Famine, War, and Pestilence were at Sam's beck and call. God and his angels never made an appearance, and all the humans who'd made it this far feared the boy with the yellow eyes.

After Sam became the Boy King, Dean was quick to follow. His brother's eyes were a vibrant shade of yellow, but Dean's became so dark they looked bottomless. He'd never forget that first night when emerald green became charcoal black, and he raised them to meet blazing pools of liquid gold. The look on Sam's face was feral, his bloody lips stretched into a euphoric grin as he wrestled Dean into a bruising kiss, then onto the bed. After months of tearing him apart, it was finally time for Sam to put Dean back together. Sam took his time, even though patience was something he didn't have much of anymore, he didn't need it now that he was King. Rough hands and even rougher lips danced across Dean's skin in an obscene symphony, marking their path with varying shades of red and purple, until they found their way home. Sam licked Dean open with a litany of dirty promises to make him feel good, to remind him who he belonged to.

"I knew you'd come back to me eventually," Sam had said, "You and I have always been one. You can't resist your soulmate forever."

'Soulmate' had sounded weird coming from Sam's lips, because Dean was pretty sure neither of them had a soul anymore. Either way, he knew Sam was right. Fighting their gravitational pull towars each other has always been impossible. If it'd been easy, Dean would've never kissed Sam years and years ago, when they were still just kids and this whole thing started.

But that was then.

Now, Dean stood black-eyed and vigilant at the window of his house on Earth (or was it Hell? Dean's not too sure, there isn't much of a difference anymore), keeping a watch out for anyone dumb enough to threaten Sam. It's not like they'd be able to do any damage, supernatural or not, but the idea of some lowlife coming after his brother still made Dean feel uneasy. Old habits die hard.

Outside, things were crumbling, literally, as the world continued to fall victim to hellfire. The end of life as he knew it, the thing that Dean used to dread so horribly, now seemed beautiful to him. It took a lot of convincing, but Dean was sane again. He knew that purging the world was necessary if he and Sam were going to lay the foundation of their new life, the one where they had all the power over everyone and everything.

Sparing a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Sam was still breathing, Dean saw the subtle rise and fall of his brother's naked chest, and was satisfied. It was hard to look away, with Sam's features softened by sleep, bathed in the glow of flames outside the window. When Sam looked like this, it was almost easy  for Dean to forget that his little brother had oceans of blood on his hands. He looked like the same twenty-two year old kid he used to be, the one who ran off to college and spent his evenings at home, wrapped up in one of Dean's old hoodies. The memories of their weaker selves should've made Dean cringe, but it was impossible to hate the boys who shaped them into the men they are today. Besides, there was nothing wrong with smiling at the thought of the first time they kissed, or had sex, or went on a real date. At the end of the day, it was still Sam and Dean, demon or not. In fact, Dean wishes he could see the look on his younger-self's face if he knew the greatness Sam would become. Even from a young age, that's all Dean's wanted. For Sam to be great. And now, his baby brother was the greatest of them all.

"Are you going to keep staring, or are  
you going to get back in bed with me?" Sam mumbled from between silk sheets. They were dark red, making it look like he was coated in blood.

"Just appreciating the view," Dean said quietly.

"Hmm," Sam smirked, eyes still closed, "Which one?"

Dean grinned. "Both."

"Are the flames dying down yet?" Sam asked.

"Nope," Dean responded.

"Are they close?"

Dean peeked outside to survey the damage. "About thirty miles away."

Sam's yellow eyes cracked open and he frowned a little bit. "We should head back soon," he said, "The house is warded to withstand the damage, but I don't want to take any chances with you inside. If things go wayside, we can always fix the damage after it's done."

"Aww," Dean cooed, "You worried 'bout me, Sammy?"

"Always."

"I'm a big boy," Dean patronized, "I can handle myself just fine."

"Doesn't mean you have to," Sam said seriously.

Even as the two most powerful beings in the universe, it was still ingrained into Sam and Dean's biology to look out for each other. The thought made Dean's heartbeat stutter. He took one last glance outside before strutting back to bed.

"You know, I think we've got time for one more round before we gotta get a move on," Dean suggested coyly.

"Oh really?"

"Mhm," Dean nodded.

Sam propped himself up on his left elbow and looked down at Dean, lying flat on his back. Sam had his bottom lip trapped tightly between his teeth as he began mentally ravishing Dean, causing the older Winchester's eyes to flick black with lust. Sam took note of this and rolled his body on top of his brother's.

"You still open for me down there?" Sam purred, snaking a hand underneath the covers to circle Dean's hole, still raw and dripping come from the last five (or six, but who's counting?) rounds. Dean shivered at the intrusion, pushing down on Sam's long fingers, encouraging them to reach that overly-abused sweet spot deep inside his body.

"Yesss," Dean hissed, dragging blunt fingernails down his brother's well-muscled chest, right over that ridiculous tattoo they'd gotten as a way to keep evil out.

"Gonna be a good boy and let me come inside you again?" Sam demanded, mouthing at Dean's already hickey-covered jaw.

"Do it," Dean breathed, arching his body into Sam, desperate to feel the sweat-slick slide of skin-on-skin. "C'mon, not a lot of time left."

"Don't worry, Dean, I've got you," Sam soothed, foregoing a condom and positioning himself at Dean's entrance.

"Please," Dean whimpered uninhibitedly, never ashamed to beg Sam, his brother, his lover, his king, his everything, to give him what he wants, "Please, I need it."

"It's yours, baby," Sam promised, pushing the tip past Dean's sore rim, "Just be patient."

Dean nodded and held on to him tight, fingernails digging into Sam's torn up shoulder blades. Sam continued to inch his cock deeper and deeper inside Dean, until he reached a particularly good spot and Dean's eyes squeezed shut while he moaned at the sensation.

"You know the rules, Dean," Sam admonished softly, "I don't move unless I can see those pretty eyes of yours."

Dean mentally scolded himself for having forgotten then parted his lids to reveal forest-green irises, darkened with lust.

"That's not what I'm looking for," Sam tssked, "Try again."

Dean blinked and inky black flooded everything. Sam's toothy grin let Dean know he'd done good, and then suddenly, the rest of Sam's dick was being pushed inside him roughly.

"There's my Dean," Sam praised.

Dean groaned loud with a mixture of sweet pleasure-pain, feeling his own spent cock jerk up against his stomach. Sam wasted no time setting the rhythm, falling into a rough, fast pace that had Dean hooking his ankles together around Sam's waist. By now, they'd both been pushed so far past the point of overstimulation and sensitivity that Dean knew it wouldn't take long. Sam's breath was ragged, as it always was when he was close to an orgasm. His thrusts were brutal and deep, trying to get them both off in as little time as possible. Dean was so thoroughly used, he couldn't do much more than voice his praise at how good Sam was making him feel with little noises. 

"I want you to come without touching yourself," Sam said through gritted teeth, "Just my cock, nothing else."

Dean nodded his consent. It would be easy, now, with how intensely he could feel everything.

With a show of brute strength, Sam used one arm to break Dean's monkey-like grip on his body and roll him onto his stomach. Burying his face into the mattress, Dean crossed his wrists together at the small of his back and angled his hips up towards Sam, submitting himself completely. He knew Sam changed their position so that Dean's cock wouldn't rub against the bed or his little brother's stomach, because Sam wanted Dean to come well and truly from nothing else but him. The good thing about this position was that it gave Sam the perfect angle to continually nail Dean's prostate, making electric bolts of pleasure shoot through his body over and over again.

"M'gonna come," Dean moaned after a few minutes, trying to rock himself back and meet every snap of Sam's hips.

"Let go," Sam ordered, tangling his right hand in Dean's hair to tug on the messy spikes, while his left hand smacked Dean hard on the ass. That final, unsuspected jolt of feeling is what sent Dean over the edge, spilling all over their ruined bedsheets. Sam came with a grunt after Dean's hole tightened around him like a vice, pulling harder on Dean's hair. They rode out their orgasm together, panting, sweating, and growling like the vicious beasts they were. When they collapsed on the bed in a messy heap, Dean's eyes were still black in content satisfaction. Sam liked them best that way.

"You're so good, Sammy," Dean murmured, rolling over to place his head on Sam's chest. Sam laughed and ran his fingers softly down Dean's spine. It was a comforting act that made goosebumps rise over Dean's flesh, despite the overly warm temperature in their room.

"As much as I wanna stay, we've gotta go home," Sam said, looking out the window. The flames had reached the house and were beginning to lick at the glass. It hadn't shattered yet, and it most likely wouldn't, but like Sam said, it's stupid to take chances.

"Okay," Dean agreed, "Let's go home."

\-------

All it took was a flick of Sam's fingers for them to be back in Hell, fully clothed and refreshed. Their sweaty-sticky bodies had been zapped clean, as if they'd been scrubbing the grime away with cinnamon-scented body wash. But perhaps cinnamon wasn't the best way to describe it, the two of them always smelled a little bit like sulfur now.

"Home sweet home," Dean chimed, in their other bedroom, still adorned with a silk-clad bed, and the addition of a weapons display on the far right wall. He went to the rack and picked up his favorite object, and ancient blade made of teeth and bone. Holding the blade made his blood sing with delight, and nothing in life (except Sam) has ever given him the same rush of excitement before.

"Let's get this party started," Sam grinned, adjusting his crown in the mirror. Despite being freshly fucked, another spark of lust coiled in Dean's gut at the sight of Sam with a golden halo of thorns, blood, bone, and unabashed power. Sam smiled gently and kissed Dean one last time, before the warmth bled from his face and the stone mask came on.

Following his brother dutifully to the throne room, Dean composed his expression into one of thinly-veiled anger. Since the moment he picked up the blade, his fingers were itching to get blood on them.

The demons present all bowed or kneeled whenever Sam and Dean walked in the room. A single, massive throne sat in the center, surrounded by the insides of those who dared threaten them. There was only ever one seat, meant for Sam, because Dean preferred to stand in the shadows behind it. He was a dark reminder that he and Sam were constantly lurking in the places people couldn't see, unknowingly observing their every move. Some days, like today, Dean preferred to walk around and question Sam's demons, to make sure nothing was out of line. Routine inspections of Sam's army was standard protocol, and basic common sense. Demons could be sneaky, and Dean loved to make examples of those who thought they were smart enough to challenge their king's rule.  As always, the consequences for making mistakes were fatal, and today, Dean was hoping to punish every little flaw he could find.

Sam took his place on the throne and sunk into it, leaning back and spreading his legs into a wide 'V', ready to watch Dean put on a show. The only hint of emotion on his face was the subtle glint in his yellow eyes. Dean smiled evily at Sam, then turned to face the masses. None of the demons dared meet his gaze, eyes trained respectfully on the floor.

"Up and at 'em, boys!" Dean boomed, his voice reaching even the darkest corners of hell.

"You better be in tip-top shape if you wanna make it out of here alive," Dean threatened, "I'm dying to give a beating, and your King is looking for a show."

As the subjects below him cowered in fear, Dean's grin stretched wider, making tiny creases appear at the corner of his black eyes.

The fun part has only just begun.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u very much for reading, if u haven't already check out my other Wincest fics Stealing Fire and Dominate the Game...i didn't make those part of this series  
> xoxo


End file.
